


Litany

by mistr3ssquickly



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Time, M/M, ep iv is the best ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 03:09:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5851741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistr3ssquickly/pseuds/mistr3ssquickly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke is alone, truly alone, for the first time in his life when he follows Han into the closeness of his quarters, drawn by Han’s lingering looks and barely veiled advances, the hour late enough that his eyes burn from lack of sleep, his body heavy and dragging, moving under the push of the adrenaline coursing through him, poorly concealed by the calm he taught himself to project before racing the canyons with the other boys, before going out to the western stretches of the farm, where he’s spotted Tusken Riders, not quite far enough in the distance. Lessons learnt a lifetime ago, it seems. Like a dream he only kind of remembers upon waking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Litany

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cara_Loup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cara_Loup/gifts).



**Litany**

Luke is alone, truly alone, for the first time in his life when he follows Han into the closeness of his quarters, drawn by Han’s lingering looks and barely veiled advances, the hour late enough that his eyes burn from lack of sleep, his body heavy and dragging, moving under the push of the adrenaline coursing through him, poorly concealed by the calm he taught himself to project before racing the canyons with the other boys, before going out to the western stretches of the farm, where he’s spotted Tusken Riders, not quite far enough in the distance. Lessons learnt a lifetime ago, it seems. Like a dream he only kind of remembers upon waking.

The door slides closed behind him with a finalizing hush, the quiet closing around him like a hand, intimate, not quite constricting. He watches, motionless, as Han shrugs out of his vest, unclips his gunbelt. Drops both to a small table at the center of the room, rolling his shoulders like it’s _just_ been a long day, not a day filled with death and terror and running from Imperial Stormtroopers, barely making the jump to lightspeed in time to get away with their lives.

_I must not fear._

Han turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised, his mouth quirked in a half-grin. Cocks his hip to the side, one hand resting on it, exuding challenge like heat coming off his skin. He looks Luke up and down, slow and deliberate, making a show of it. Crosses his arms over his chest when Luke swallows, meeting his gaze.

“What’s the matter, kid?” he says. “You change your mind?”

He hasn’t. He crosses the room -- two steps, really, another half to put him as close to Han as he wants to be -- and touches, rests the palm of his hand over Han’s side, just below the curve of Han’s ribs. He tips his chin up, meets Han’s gaze, looks down at Han’s lips before leaning in to kiss him. Something he saw in a racy holoprojection one of the Darklighter boys managed to nick from their dad and showed Luke, hidden in the shadows of the canyons, what feels like a lifetime ago.

_Fear is the mind-killer._

Han kisses him back, touches him. A calloused hand brushing his cheek, wrapping around to cup the back of his head. Fingers sliding down his spine, resting over the curve of his ass. Gentle but proprietary, keeping Luke in place as they kiss. Squeezing, just hard enough to keep innocence out of the picture, Luke’s body thrumming with anticipation, arousal rising fast and hot under his skin. Spiking when Han shifts, pushing against him, the hard length of his erection pressed against Luke’s hip  proof that he’s enjoying it, too.

“You ever done this before, kid?” he says when Luke gasps into the kiss, trying to shift his body towards Han’s, wanting more friction.

Luke shakes his head. Wraps his other hand around the back of Han’s neck and pulls him in for more kissing before Han can respond.

_Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration._

Han doesn’t ask him any more questions. He pushes Luke over to the narrow bunk in the corner, pulls at Luke’s simple tunic, the fasteners of Luke’s pants. Has Luke mostly bared to the cool air of the room before he pulls his own shirt over his head, showing off the muscles of his chest and belly, skin criss-crossed with scars, dusted heavily with short curls, leading down below the waistline of his pants, tantalizing and terrifying and real. Luke stops pulling off his own boots and reaches forward, tugs at Han’s belt. Meets Han’s smirk with one of his own, pulling until Han’s body is uncovered to him, aroused and close enough to taste.

Luke leans forward to do just that.

_I will face my fear._

Han’s fingers tangle in his hair, pulling, but it doesn’t hurt. He groans softly, deep in the back of his throat, and rocks his hips, just enough to set the pace, showing Luke what he likes, which Luke rather likes, too. He stops when Han tells him to, jaw starting to ache and lips swollen. Pulls off his remaining boot and scoots over on the bunk to make room for Han to join him, drunk on adrenaline and dizzy with wanting. Han kisses him and touches his cock, no prelude or teasing. Works him until he’s slick and messy, no rush to it, no urgency. Pulls Luke on top of him with only a little difficulty, Luke too distracted to figure out what he wants, at first. Breathes out on a satisfied sigh when Luke straddles him, moaning a little as Han presses their cocks together.

“Yeah, just like that,” Han says, rocking his hips, unbalancing Luke just enough that Luke shifts against him and _gets it_ , what Han wants him to do. What _he_ wants to do. “Ah, stars kid, _just_ like that.”

_I will allow it to pass over me and through me._

They make a mess of Han’s chest and belly, Luke’s back prickling with gooseflesh afterwards as his sweat cools and dries. He leans down and kisses Han in an impatient rush of sentimentality, isn’t expecting Han to take the kiss long, but he does and it’s fine, feels kind of good in the hazy glow of getting off, counterbalances the awkwardness of climbing off of Han and following him to the ‘fresher to clean up, of not knowing what to do once he’s clean and Han isn’t, standing nude in Han’s quarters while Han scrubs at the mess clinging to the curls on his belly, his clothes in a heap, boots flopped over against the edge of Han’s bunk.

Han gives up on cleaning himself and hooks Luke by the arm, drags him towards the bed. “C’mon,” he says with a dramatic roll of his eyes when Luke resists, confused and dazed, the events of the day catching up to him. “Stay. Unless you’re worried your grandpa’ll chew your ear off if he sees you sneakin’ outta here in the morning.”

“He’s not my grandfather,” Luke says, stupidly, his feet uncoordinated as he follows Han over to the bunk, which feels somehow smaller than it seemed, before.

Han laughs at him, pushes him none-too-gently down onto the thin mattress. “Good,” he says, pulling at the rumpled mess of blankets until he finds an edge, tugging it up over them, just up to their hips. “Then he won’t care. Right?”

Luke should care, he knows. Doesn’t.

“Right,” he says.

_And when it is gone, I will turn the inner eye to see its path._

He doesn’t get much sleep that night, the flashes of fear and anger and sadness slipping forward from his subconscious mixed with the feel of Han beside him foreign and jarring, closeness forced by the size of the bed.  He wakes, jostled from a light sleep and a nightmare about falling to the whistle of Han’s commlink, drags himself into his clothes when Han rises and starts dressing. He avoids the cool, piercing look Ben gives him when the old man finds him in the galley with Han, relieved when Ben says nothing about his absence from their quarters the night before, instead launching into a lesson on focus and meditation, seeking the feel of the Force. Han sticks close, peppering Ben's lessons with the occasional derisive snort, an exaggerated roll of his eyes, a distraction as unwelcome in Ben’s presence as it was welcome just hours before.

“You don’t believe in the Force, do you?” Luke says, embarrassed and smarting from the laser blast he didn’t manage to deflect in time, tired and frustrated and strung out.

Han doesn’t.

Luke wishes it didn’t bother him as much as it does.

_Where fear has been, there will be nothing._

They only get along when they’re naked together in Han’s bunk, it seems, arguing constantly in the cockpit of the _Falcon_ , in the suffocatingly pristine corridors of the _Death Star_ , amidst the chaos and adrenaline of the Rebel base on Yavin 4. Luke complains about it to Leia, grumbles about it to Artoo. Uses every trick Ben taught him to push it from his mind as he forms up with his team, approaching their final run on the _Death Star_ , fear and excitement helping considerably, his heart thudding in his chest as he dodges TIE fighters without looking, the long trench stretching out before him, seemingly endless. The first shot misses, as does the second. The third is his to take and it’s suicide, the end of the great tale of Luke Skywalker, wrapped up in mediocrity and weakness.

“You’re all clear, kid. Let’s blow this thing and _go home_.”

The sound cuts across him like a physical blade, joy and disbelief mixing with fear and doubt, rising in a heady cocktail of emotion Luke wouldn't trust himself to name, doesn't have time to care about, really, the trench opening before him like a gaping jaw, swallowing him as he rushes forward, safe in the _Falcon_ ’s shadow.

Luke smiles and closes his eyes. Takes the shot, the energy of it pulsing around him, ripples in a still pond. Angles his X-wing up, hard, the gash of explosion behind him hot like a lover’s breath on his neck, silent in the spaces between.

“I knew you'd come back,” he murmurs through a grin, bracing as he drops into the blur of atmosphere back toward the tentative familiarity of the base on Yavin 4, a run he'd not thought he'd make, a return he hadn't expected to grace his story. “Just _knew_ it.”

 

_Only I will remain._

**Author's Note:**

> A few items of interest here:
> 
> > I discovered the joy of the original _Star Wars_ trilogy just after Christmas 2015 and holy shit, what have you people been hiding from me, why didn’t anyone tell me I was missing out.
> 
> > Cara_Loup owes me several nights’ lost sleep, because I stayed up WAY later than an adult professional ought to on a work-night, greedily reading everything they've posted. I don’t even mind.
> 
> > The poem interspersed throughout is the “Litany against Fear” from _Dune,_ which I have been trying to read since 2003 without much luck. I memorized it while going through the terror of purchasing a home, and I share it with my advisees whenever they’re facing trying times. Reciting it has a calming effect like no other. Learn more [here](http://dune.wikia.com/wiki/Litany_Against_Fear).
> 
> > This story happened in half a day, because the story I’ve been working on went from “let’s write a little 2k-word short-story” to “oh cool, I’m at 13,370, that spells l33t!” and it’s still going strong. I’ll let you know when it runs out of gas.
> 
> > _Episode IV_ will always be my favorite episode, no take-backs.
> 
> > I actually _shrieked_ in surprised joy when Han came back at the very end of IV and saved the day with Luke. Legitimately did _not_ see that coming.
> 
> > I can’t even deal with Mark Hamill’s fluffy blonde hair and would happily get arrested trying to pet him.
> 
> > I wrote this, almost in its entirety, while power-walking on a treadmill to the _Star Wars_ OST. 20k steps a day or bust, baby, become my FitBit friend only if you _dare._


End file.
